


Homecoming

by thewolvescalledmehome



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Homecoming, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Robb Sansa and Jon are all in the same grade, Sansa is younger though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 08:52:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12229629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: Jon only joined the football team because Robb begged him to, but by the time their senior year homecoming game comes, Jon actually cares about it-winning. Except they lose, and Jon blames himself. Sansa try to convince him it's not his fault.





	1. The Game

**Author's Note:**

> The homecoming game.

Sansa really didn’t know anything about football. She mostly just cheered whenever everyone else she was standing with did, and booed when they did as well. She only went to the games to support Robb and, by extension, Jon. She knew Jon only tried out freshman year because Robb begged him to go with to the tryouts. She also knew that Jon didn’t have a whole personal cheering section the way Robb did, so she tried to cheer for him when she noticed him doing something on the field.

For three seasons, Sansa went to nearly every home football game, cheering on her brother and his best friend. Now it was their senior year Homecoming game and she was biting her nails.

It was the third quarter and they were losing, 21-0. She knew the drive home would be tense if the final score was anything like the one currently on the board.

Sansa crossed her fingers in her pockets as the Direwolves got the ball, and Robb caught a pass. She was squeezed in the stands between Jeyne Poole and Jeyne Westerling, the crush of bodies surrounding her being the only thing to keep her from shivering. Sansa cheered for Robb, but she kept an eye on another number that was on the sidelines—number 98—Jon.

It was him she was more worried about than Robb. Robb was playing well, and his name seemed to be called over the loudspeaker more often than anyone else’s. She’d only seen Jon be put in twice, even though they’d mostly been on defense, and he always seemed to be just a little off of where he needed to be. She hoped he was okay—Sansa knew how personally Jon took every mistake.

“Oh, no, get him! Get him!” Jeyne yelled next to her and Sansa turned in time to see Jon running for someone from the other team.

“Ooh,” Sansa winced, seeing the tackle. It looked like it hurt, both Jon and the other player. Everyone around her was cheering, until flashes of yellow flew onto the field.

“Nooo!”

“Boooo!”

“BULLSHIT!”

“That’s a bad call,” she muttered to Sansa. “Jon’s tackle was clean.” Sansa could never understand how Jeyne understood quite so much about football, even though she was dating Robb. She was mostly just glad to have her at the games, explaining what was happening.

Sansa saw Jon stalk off the field, yanking his helmet off in the process. He stormed over to one of the coaches, waving his arms and pointing at the field. She could see his angry shouting from the stands. She heard the people around her cheering, but her eyes didn’t leave the black head of curls. He was still yelling at the coach, nearly jumping with how irritated he was.

Sansa had never seen him like that before.

She’d also never seen him throw his water bottle like he did when the coach pointed to the bench.

“Did he get pulled out?” Sansa asked, glancing to Jeyne.

“Looks like it. They might put him back in once he cools down.” Sansa nodded, biting her nail again. It was definitely going to be a tense car ride back, even if they pulled out an amazing comeback. 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the second half of the last quarter that Jon was put back in. They had scored since then—Robb had somehow caught Theon’s wild pass. They switched Jon to offense, but Sansa didn’t really know what that meant, aside from the fact that he was on the field at the same time as Robb now.

“There’s no way we’re winning, but maybe we’ll get another touchdown?” Jeyne shrugged as the players lined up.

“At least we scored,” Sansa muttered, knowing it didn’t make a difference to most of the students, but she thought it might to the guys.

“Oh, that was a good pass, Theo—oh shit. Jon isn’t going to get there in time,” Jeyne whispered, and Sansa’s stomach sank as she watched the ball hit the ground two feet in front of Jon’s outstretched hands.

“And that pass, intended for Jon Snow, is incomplete,” the announcer called.

“Jon Snow? Ninety-eight? Isn’t that the one that got pulled out earlier?” Sansa heard one of the parents over to her side ask. “They shouldn’t’ve let him back in.” She had to stop herself from leaning around Jeyne Poole to scowl at whoever it was saying that. Jon was trying—why couldn’t they see that?

Something else happened and the teams switched again. Jon was jogging off to the sideline, ripping his helmet off again and throwing it next to the bench. She saw the coach yell at him for that, but Jon was turned so she couldn’t see his reaction. Her heart hurt anyway.

“He’s playing hard,” Jeyne said. “It’s just that the other team is better. It’s not like that touchdown would’ve done anything. We’d still need two more to even tie.”

“You can tell him that. See if it cheers him up any.”

They numbly watched the last two minutes play out, the Direwolves at least keeping the opponents from scoring again.

“Well. At least we scored.”

“Do you want a ride?” Jeyne Poole asked her as they started to filter down from the stands.

“No, I’m riding with Robb and Jon. They’ll need some cheering up.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow before the dance?”

“Yeah.” Sansa hugged her best friend quickly before turning against the tide, heading towards the locker rooms instead of the exit.

She leaned against the brick hallway while she waited for them to come out. She thought it might be a little bit—the coach tended to give long, motivational speeches after tough loses.

It was probably nearly ten minutes later when football players started streaming out, now in sweats and hoodies, large bags over their shoulders. A lot of them stopped to say hi to her, tell her Robb was on his way. She thought they all looked tired, but only slightly more so than after any other game.

She thought Robb must’ve been one of the last out, given the number of boys who’d passed her. He came out alone, an icepack tapped to his shoulder.

“Where’s Jon?”

“He’s coming. Think he just needed a minute. Told me to wait by the car.” Sansa glanced back to the darkened doorway of the locker room.

“I’ll wait for him.” Robb turned to look at her for the first time since emerging from the locker room, his face confused.

“Are you sure? I don’t know that he wants to be around people right now.”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Robb shrugged.

“All right. I’ll be in the car.”

“’Kay.”

Sansa watched him walk away, slightly concerned about what looked like a limp, especially when he already had an icepack on his shoulder.

It was another few minutes in the quiet and dark before the locker room door opened again and Jon came out.

Sansa immediately noticed the way he had his hood pulled low over his eyes and his hands shoved in his pockets. She’d seen him look like that before—whenever he was trying to fit that idea everyone had of him—big, bad, tough. She knew though that he was hiding himself, so they didn’t see the truth.

“Jon,” she called softly. His head jerked towards her.

“Sansa.” His voice was gruff and she couldn’t see much of his face other than his nose or lips. “You didn’t have to wait for me.” Sansa pushed herself off the wall, standing so that she was blocking him from moving past her.

“I wanted to see if you were okay.” Jon shrugged.

“That was a clean tackle,” she offered, turning so that they could walk side by side. She felt Jon’s confused glance. “Jeyne said it was, at least.” Jon let out a bitter chuckle.

“Too bad the ref didn’t see it that way. Or coach.”

“Your coach agreed with the ref?” Sansa’s brow wrinkled. Jeyne had said it’d been a clean tackle and Jeyne was almost always right.

“About sending me out. He didn’t want my temper getting in the way.”

“Ah.” Sansa could see that. She knew Jon had a temper—she’d heard rumors of it, but she’d never seen it. Not like she had when he was pulled off the field.

“Mhm.” He was walking slowly, seeming to purposefully scuff his shoes against the ground.

“You played hard,” she tried again. A small part of her hated that everything she was telling him had originally come from Jeyne’s mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. Too hard. Too hotheaded.”

“Jon,” she breathed, reaching out for his hoodie sleeve but her hand fell just short.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

 _No, you’re not,_ she wanted to say, but she didn’t. They were just friends. It wasn’t like there was anything between them, nothing more than friendship at least.

“If you say so,” she whispered instead. “Are you going to the dance tomorrow?” She could see the slight turn in his head from the corner of her eye.

“I bought a ticket but I haven’t decided yet. Probably not, after today.” The amount of defeat in his voice forced her to set around him, blocking his path again.

“We would’ve lost the game anyway. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Jon.” Her voice was firm but her mouth was soft with his name. “One more touchdown wouldn’t have done anything.”

“Okay.” He didn’t say it sarcastically this time, but it didn’t sound as though he believed her either.

They were to the car then, and Sansa dutifully climbed into the backseat, letting the guys discuss the game quietly up front. She tried listening, but most of what they said went over her head.

When they pulled up to the Stark house, Jon hesitated near his truck that was parked on the street.

“Aren’t you staying over?” Robb asked, and Sansa paused as well. Jon always slept over after a football game. It would’ve really been more accurate to say that he always slept over though. He practically lived there. Jon shrugged.

“I think I just need to clear my head.”

“You can do that here,” Robb offered.

“I need a drive. I’ll be back.”

“Okay. Be sure to lock up behind you.” Jon nodded and threw his bag in the back of his truck. Sansa stepped into the house behind Robb but turned around to glance at Jon again.

“I’ll be right back.” She was back down the steps before Robb could say anything. “Do you want company?” Jon turned from where he was stowing his bag, shutting the door.

“What?”

“Do you want company? Not to talk or anything but…just to not be alone.” Sansa could just make out his eyes from beneath the hood he still wore. She could see the light reflected in them, but not much else.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

“Okay.”

She climbed up into the truck cab, curling up in it. Jon climbed in next to her, starting the truck and turning on the radio. Sansa had half thought that they might talk anyway—Jon might rant about the game, but the radio suggested otherwise. She was fine with it though. She thought Jon allowing her to ride along was good enough. 

* * *

 

They drove past the high school, the toilet paper still blowing like streamers in the trees. Sansa almost said something then, to ask if he came with any of the nights to toilet paper since she hadn’t seen him, but she didn’t think a reminder of homecoming would be a great idea at the moment.

Jon drove them through the residential section that he lived in—the one that looked much different from her family’s subdivision. These were all older, ranch houses with unkempt yards. She almost thought they were going to stop at his house, but they drove past the dark windows and through the neighborhood until they left it for the fields on the other side.

Sansa could tell Jon had done this before—he knew these roads, even though she was pretty sure they weren’t on any maps, as there were no more signs for street names.

Sansa wasn’t sure where they were going but she really didn’t care. She liked driving in Jon’s truck with him. It was relaxing. Or at least, for her it was. Jon’s hands still looked tense on the steering wheel.

Sansa angled herself so that her back was against the door, putting a majority of him in her field of vision. She kept her eyes away from his face, focusing them on the steering wheel instead. She thought it was probably weird that she was watching his hands on the wheel but it was eleven o’clock on a Friday and they just lost the homecoming game so she didn’t care.

* * *

 

It was past midnight when Jon finally stopped. They were on a rise that looked over part of town. Sansa thought she could make out the football field behind the high school below them.

“C’mon,” he said quietly, opening his door. Sansa had no idea where they were going, but followed him out anyway.

Jon walked to the front of the truck and climbed up so that he was sitting on the hood before reaching down to offer her a hand. Sansa allowed him to pull her up and leaned back against the windshield beside him.

“Is this where you come? To think?” she asked, voice just above a whisper.

“Yeah. To think. To get away. Probably slept in my truck out here nearly as often as I sleep at your place,” he admitted. Sansa had to force herself not to look at him. She closed her eyes instead.

“It’s quiet.”

“Yeah. It’s a nice quiet though. Not like my house.” Sansa opened her mouth but shut it immediately.

Her and Jon were friendly. They weren’t really friends, but there was an understanding of some sort between them. But she’d never heard him talk about his home life before. She’d inferred things over the years—how often he was at their house, how no one ever came to the games for him, but never heard anything from him himself.

“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly, sitting up. It was like he had to fill the silence after what he’d admitted. Sansa shrugged, though he didn’t see it as he was already climbing down. Sansa sat up, trying to turn to see him through the windshield.

He was beside her again before she could turn all the way around.

“Here.” He set a jacket in her lap. For a second, she thought it was just the warm up hoodie he’d been wearing earlier, but it was far to heavy for that. It jingled lightly as Sansa pulled her arms through it.

“I didn’t even know you had a letterman jacket. I’ve never seen you wear it.”

“I don’t. I keep it in the truck mostly.” She bit the _why not_ back. Robb wore his everywhere. You could hear him coming from a mile away.

“It’s warm.”

“Mm.”

They lapsed into silence again, and Sansa leaned back, fighting the urge to lean closer to Jon. Instead, she shoved her hands in the pockets of his jacket, mirroring his position. Her elbow ended up against his in doing so. She expected him to immediately shift it so they weren’t touching, but he didn’t. Instead he pushed his elbow more against hers.

* * *

 

“Did you make up your mind about the dance tomorrow yet?” Sansa whispered as they tiptoed up the stairs of the Stark house. It was hours past her curfew.

“Not yet.”

“Well, I think you should come. It’ll be fun. And it’s your senior year. It’s your last homecoming.”

“Maybe.”

They were in front of Robb’s door then, and Sansa remembered that she was still wearing his jacket.

“Oh. Here.” She started to shrug out of it slowly, trying to keep the metals quiet.

“It’s okay. You can give it to me tomorrow.”

“At the dance?” Sansa asked eagerly, pulling the jacket closer around her shoulders.

“Yeah, all right. Fine. At the dance.” Sansa grinned and she saw Jon's lips twitch, causing her grin to stretch further across her face.


	2. The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The homecoming dance. Also, some background on Jon and his family situation.

Jon left the Stark house soon after breakfast was cleaned up. Robb had wanted to spend the morning hanging out, running the last minute Homecoming errands, but Jon had other errands to run. Errands Robb wouldn’t understand—errands that would bring out that Stark need to protect that was in all of them, and the Tully need to nurture in Catelyn and Sansa.

Jon knew Sansa had that instinct in her—that softness that allowed her to care for things so deeply—even before she offered to ride along with him last night. He didn’t mind that type of nurturing, but the mothering Catelyn would bestow on him if she knew what he was spending the morning doing, he couldn’t handle that.

His errands were part of the reason he wasn’t sure if he would be going to the dance tonight.

It was the last weekend of the month, which meant Aegon and Rhaenys would be there in a few hours—remnants of the custody agreement, even though they were both over eighteen.

Jon’s mother had died when he was young but not young enough that he didn’t remember her. He had been old enough to remember moving in with the man who was apparently his father, his wife and their children.

He realized very quickly that Elia and Rhaegar did not have a happy marriage. They put on a good show for the kids, but by the time he got to middle school, Elia must’ve decided the kids were old enough to handle her divorcing Rhaegar.

He remembered wondering what that meant for him, until Elia asked if he wanted to move in with her and the other two. He loved her for asking, even though she was never overtly motherly towards him. He didn’t say no out of loyalty to Rhaegar or even out of fear of not belonging with Elia and her children. He said no because between his mother’s death and Elia filing for divorce, Rhaegar broke. He couldn’t take care of himself. Jon saw it happen and he felt it was his duty, as his son, to stay with him and take care of him.

Six years later, Jon regretted that decision, not for the first time. He was spending the day of his senior year homecoming grocery shopping for his adult half-siblings because his father quit grocery shopping six years ago. He also quit cleaning and doing laundry, but he had started drinking.

It was six months later that he met Robb and Jon started to only go grocery shopping when Elia’s kids came for their weekend because he ate nearly every night at the Starks’. He decided Rhaegar could fend for himself.

Jon pushed his cart down the aisles, filling it with fruits and vegetables that would go bad if he didn’t remember to eat them all before next weekend. He threw in a frozen pizza too—Rhaegar should have no problem managing to cook that for his kids tonight.

He also put in a box of the crackers he knew Aegon liked and a pint of Rhae’s favorite ice cream. They didn’t know Rhaegar wasn’t the one doing the grocery shopping. They thought he was a healthy and functioning adult who knew his kids’ favorite foods.

He let them believe the lie, mostly out of habit. He started the lie because he didn’t want Rhaegar losing his once a month weekend with his kids, as he knew he would if Elia found out. If Rhaegar lost that, Jon knew it would kill him, and then he’d be either forced to live with Elia or sent into foster care and he didn’t want that. Not because he didn’t like Elia, but she lived twenty minutes away and he would have to move to a new school district. He would have to give up the Starks.

He just had to keep up the lie until he turned eighteen in a few months, then he didn’t give a shit what happened to Rhaegar.

* * *

 

Jon woke up Rhaegar two hours later, purposefully jamming the vacuum against the couch.

“Egg and Rhae will be here soon. Go shower,” Jon told him, pulling the hose off the vacuum and cleaning the arm of the couch his head was on. “Get up.”

Rhaegar mumbled something that was probably a curse before rolling off the couch and stumbling for the bathroom. Jon pushed the vacuum at his father’s heels to hurry him along.

The faster Rhaegar showered and shaved the faster Jon could start getting ready for his own night.

Jon tried to focus on cleaning, mostly to stop himself from thinking about the dance.

Or last night.

Or Sansa in general.

They’d hung out before, but last night was different. She’d seen something in him that made her ask to ride along. She knew that he was blaming himself for the loss even though, as she pointed out, there was no way they were coming back from that.

She was so gentle with everything she did. She didn’t push him to talk about anything, even when he mentioned how quiet his house was. And she didn’t ask why he kept the letterman jacket in his truck, probably the only one on the team who didn’t wear it.

She probably was the only one that would understand that while he had only tried out because of Robb, football meant something to him. Except he couldn’t let anyone know that, because then people would expect more from him. And he couldn’t let them know how much he cared.

So he painstakingly sewed the metals and patches onto the jacket but kept it in the truck so that no one ever saw it.

Except Sansa. He didn’t care if she saw.

He wasn’t worried about revealing too much around her. He avoided dating girls because he didn’t want to explain why they would always have to hang out at her place, never his. Why he’d never bring her home to meet his parents.

He wouldn’t have to explain all of that with Sansa. She already knew all of it, or at least as much as Robb did.

Jon had already stopped himself from texting Jeyne Westerling to see if she knew what color dress Sansa was wearing so that he could run out and buy a matching tie. Or that flower thing girls wore on their wrists.

He knew she was going alone and he knew that she wanted him to come, but he didn’t know what that meant.

He supposed he could ask Jeyne, but he didn’t want to risk the chance of Jeyne telling Sansa.

Jon settled for the fact that he knew he would definitely see her, so that she could give him back the jacket.

He’d never admit how much he was looking forward to that small moment.

* * *

 

“You look nice. It must be the homecoming dance?” Rhae asked, giving him that awkward half hug they’d been doing since he joined the family. Jon nodded. “Got a date?”

“No, just going with some guys from the team.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that game. Heard it was tough.” This was Aegon, stepping in behind his sister. Jon was surprised they’d heard about the game at all, but he was suddenly hoping they didn’t hear about him getting ejected. Or the incomplete pass.

“Yeah.”

“Have fun. Be safe,” Rhae waved as he grabbed his keys from table and headed out. He thought on his way down the drive that he should go back and remind Rhaegar to turn off the oven after he took the pizza out—Jon didn’t really want to come back tomorrow morning to a burned down house, but he figured one of the other two would make sure it got turned off.

For once, part of his mind wouldn’t be worrying whether or not Rhaegar was doing something stupid enough to get himself killed and Jon sent into foster care. He could have one night of blissful, worriless peace.

* * *

 

Jon sat in his truck outside of the school, watching the happy couples walk in, hand in hand. He thought he had seen Robb’s car in the parking lot, and what he was pretty sure Jeyne Poole’s VW Bug, which meant Sansa was probably there too, but he couldn’t motivate himself to get out of the cab.

He didn’t want to hear everyone’s comments about the game. The pity. The _there’s still a few games left in the season_. He didn’t want to see his teammates—aside from Robb. He didn’t want to put on his façade of not really caring that they lost, because everyone thought he was apathetic—on the team because Robb was. He didn’t want to explain his outburst on the sidelines yesterday—an outpouring of raw emotion that none of them had seen before.

Jon had his hand on the gearshift, adrenaline telling him to put it in reverse and drive to the spot he’d went to with Sansa last night, but his passenger side door opening stopped him.

“Hey. You came.” Sansa hopped in next to him, voice sounding surprised.

“I said I would.” Sansa gave him a look and he couldn’t help but smile.

“And here’s your jacket, like I said I would bring.” She set in on the seat between them. He wondered if she brought it to him here so other people wouldn’t see that he did, in fact, have a letterman jacket.

“Thanks.”

“So… I’ll see you in there?” Jon opened his mouth to say that he was heading in, but someone from the football team walked passed and something else came out instead.

“Yeah. I’ll be in soon.”

She flashed him a brilliantly sparkly smile and jumped down from the cab.

It wasn’t until she was halfway to the school that he saw what color her dress was. Dark grey. The same color as his tie.

That was enough to finally propel him out of the truck.

Inside the school gym, Jon quickly found a spot in the bleachers. He knew it was where the wallflowers sat, but he needed the height to figure out where Robb was. He wasn’t going to enter the dancing mob without a plan.

Except Robb’s head wasn’t the one he found and started moving towards. It was Sansa’s.

“Hi Jon!” Jeyne Poole called, causing Sansa to turn. They were dancing on the fringes, shoes kicked off to the side. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. You too. Sansa, you look…” he trailed off, looking for the right superlative. “Beautiful,” he settled on, even though it wasn’t enough.

“Thanks, Jon. Robb and Jeyne are getting punch if you’re looking for them.” He turned, glancing behind him at where refreshments tables were, quickly spotting Robb and Jeyne standing next to the tables. He waved when Jeyne pointed him out to Robb.

He knew Sansa expected him to head over to them, but he turned back towards her instead, steeling himself.

“Actually… do you want to dance?” he asked. He was sure he would have to repeat himself, his voice was so quiet the first time—there was no way she’d heard him over the pounding bass.

“Yeah.” Sansa grinned at him, stepping closer.

He saw Jeyne Poole fade into the mob just as he reached for Sansa.

And he remembered he had no clue how to dance. He hadn’t thought this through.

Just as her hands touched his chest, the song changed to a slow one.

He sighed in relief. Slow dancing he could do.

Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and he rested his hands on her waist, just above her hips. He realized they probably looked like a couple, given that her dress was the same color as his tie and she was resting her head on his shoulder. He didn’t care.

He didn’t care that people could definitely see them. That people were probably making assumptions. They were probably confused about why angry, broody Jon Snow was slow dancing with soft, kind Sansa Stark.

He held her tighter.

They danced, spinning in a slow circle until the song changed. Sansa stepped back, her warmth leaving him. He expected her to say she had to go find Jeyne, or to say she promised to dance with some guy or another because that’s who Sansa was, but instead she turned, so that they were dancing back to front.

Jon hoped Robb wasn’t watching.

* * *

 

Jon wasn’t really sure how thought he was going spend his time at the dance, but the idea of dancing with Sansa for every song had never crossed his mind as a possibility. But that’s how he spent the whole dance. After the first few songs they all started to blend together and he had no idea how much time was passing until the DJ announced the last song.

“And it’s a slow one,” he added, voice low and slow into the mic.

“It’s the last song?” Jon asked as Sansa pulled him closer again.

“Apparently,” she shrugged.

“It feels like we’ve only been dancing for a few songs,” he admitted, wondering if even that confession was even too much.

“I know. I wish this night could last forever,” she said into his neck. Hope, or something like it, flared in Jon.

“Do you have plans after this?” he asked. He felt her head rise from his shoulder. He opened his mouth to promise the innocence of his suggestion but she was smiling already.

“No,” she said slowly, coyly.

“Wanna go for a drive?” He saw confusion flicker in her eyes but she was nodding anyway. “Let’s go.”

Jon thought she might protest—ask to stay until the lights came on, say she had to find Jeyne Poole, but instead she lead him by the hand out of the gym.

“So. Where’re we going tonight?” she posed, bouncing slightly on the bench seat of his truck. Jon saw the way she shivered slightly—she was in a sleeveless dress after all.

“You’ll see. Here. Take this.” He set his letterman jacket on the seat next to her.

“Thanks, Jon. You’re really great, you know?”

“What?” Jon asked, surprised, turning his head fully to look at her when he stopped to turn out of the parking lot.

“You’re great,” she repeated, shrugging, causing the metals to chime lightly on his jacket.

“Thanks…?” His voice lifted at the end like he was confused, but it wasn’t confusion at whether it was a compliment or not. It was confusion on why she was saying it in the first place. He couldn’t ask her that though.

Jon wondered if Sansa would think it was weird that he was taking her back to the rise they went to last night, but he didn’t really know anywhere else to go. It was the only place that was his. And he wanted to share it with her.

“You really do come here as often as you come to ours, don’t you?” Sansa asked once they parked in the same spot they had been in last night.

“Probably. I don’t really like spending time at home.”

“Oh.” He left the truck running and turned the radio up loud on an acoustic station. Sansa glanced at him and smiled before jumping down.

“Is this okay?” he asked, stepping up to her as the music from the radio trickled out of the truck.

“It’s perfect,” she murmured, fitting her body against his. She stared at him for a second, her eyes so soft on his face that it made heat crawl up his neck. “You’re perfect.” His hands didn’t quite fall from her, but he took an unconscious step back.

“No, Sansa… No, I’m really not.” He started to move away, trying to remind her that he was not one of the nice guys with good families like the guys she generally went out with, but Sansa gripped him tighter.

“I didn’t mean… I know. I know you’re not literally perfect, Jon. I know you’ve got stuff going on. I just meant…that… I don’t know. That you’re perfect to me, I guess.” Sansa shrugged, looking at him tenderly again.

“Sansa, I…” Jon leaned forward, unable to stop himself. He stopped just as their noses brushed.

He couldn’t kiss her. She was just being a good friend. That was all. She was being her usual, kind, caring self.

Jon started to pull away but Sansa had already closed the gap, pressing her mouth against his. He felt a shock run through his whole body at the feeling of her lips moving against his. He could feel her fingers in his hair, on his chest over his heart. He wound his arms tight enough across her back that he nearly lifted her off the ground.

When they broke apart, Sansa laid his head on his shoulder again.

“You’re sleeping over tonight right?” she asked, swaying with him slightly.

“Yeah, probably.”

“If you ever don’t feel like sleeping with Robb, I’ve got a trundle bed. Then you won’t have to sleep in your truck. Unless it’s comfortable, of course…” she trailed off, and Jon thought he could see her blush.

“Thanks, Sansa.”

“Anytime, Jon. Really.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek and Jon thought he could definitely survive another few months of Rhaegar and making sure he didn’t do anything stupid enough to get himself killed with Sansa by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this thing I threw together because it's homecoming weekend where I'm from.

**Author's Note:**

> Second chapter is the dance.


End file.
